


Heat waves (Translation)

by redangeleve



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 19:27:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12637644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redangeleve/pseuds/redangeleve
Summary: Despite the disaster at the last Elven festival, Bard accompanies the Elvenking to the Spring Festival in Rivendell, unaware of what the ceremony will do to him.





	Heat waves (Translation)

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Heat waves](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12349275) by [redangeleve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redangeleve/pseuds/redangeleve). 



> I am not a native speaker, so if there are any mistakes in the story, I`m really sorry. I was asked if there `s no chance to read my stories in english, so I´ve tried my best to translate them. Please be kind, my school days are long gone.

Heat waves

In the dark I see your smile  
Do you feel my heat on your skin  
...  
And I`m laying down by your side  
I taste the sweet of your skin

(Imany, Don`t be so shy)

 

"Are you really sure you want to accompany Thranduil to the Spring Festival in Rivendell, Da? You remember what happened at the last elvish festival you were on. "With a meaningful side-glance, Sigrid placed the steaming plate in front of her father. Although she was now married and running her own household, she still brought lunch to Bard or he leapt to her and dined with his daughter and her husband. Irritated, Bard looked up at her. "The same Thranduil has already asked me. What do you think, that I am incorrigible? I'll take care this time, for sure. "

The last time everyone spoke about was the Winter Solstice fifteen months ago that Bard had visited. It was the first big celebration since he and Thranduil were a couple and was celebrated for the first time in decades in the palace of Lasgalen. For that reason alone, Bard insisted on coming and he had no regrets. It had been a wonderful celebration. Dozens of elves from all parts of Middle-earth had come to dance, sing and celebrate in the ceremonies. The forest had been at its best, greening and flowering, as it had not been for a long time, and the palace had been as beautifully decorated as Bard had never seen it before. But none of this even came close to Thranduil. Dressed all in silver, the crown of the Woodland realm adorned in the style of the season with ice crystals, he had been so beautiful that Bard could not help but gaze steadily at him, and when Thranduil had named him as his partner to all present, Bard alomost bursted with proud and fortunate.

Although Bard had never been a great dancer before, the rhythm of the ceremonial drums had quickly mesmerized him. The wine, which was pouring in on the celebration, did the rest to ease his inhibitions and before he knew it, Bard danced at Thranduil's side in the ranks of the elves. Everything blurred into a whirl of color and bliss, and when Bard came to, four weeks had passed, and he lay naked in Thranduil's bed with a huge headache. The Elvenking had not understood his panic at all, assuming that Bard now knew that time was of no importance to the elves and that his children knew the extent of the celebrations, but until then in Bard never occured the idea that the Eldar in their reserved kind had festivals which could get so out of hand. Although he then traveled back to Dale head over heels, his children made him hell on his return. They had almost gone mad with worry and had meanwhile sent three ravens to the Greenwood Forest to inquire about his well-being. It had taken Bard days to make them talk to him again, and in the end he had given each of his children a gift to soothe them and reassure his guilty conscience.

But Bard had learned from his mistakes. This time he would do better, he would drink the wine sparingly and not let himself be lulled by the ceremonial spells, but that did not mean he had not made arrangements. Tilda, who was the only one still living at home, would move to Sigrids house for the time of his absence, and Bain, who had been apprenticed as a weaponsmith for a year, was living in a spare room in the smithy for free and was fed by his teacher's wife. Finding someone to run the mayor office for the duration of his absence had been more difficult, but in the end, Bard had given the responsibility to three men from the council whom he knew were respectable and responsible.

Carefully, Bard put some shirts and pants together and packed them in a bag. The ride to Rivendell would take about a week, but the weather promised to be dry and consistent, so that Bard was looking forward to the journey. He used to have never had the money to see any of the world and although he now had the resources as mayor of Dale, he had never found the time to get away from the Long Lake and the Lonely Mountain, so it was a welcome change to ride once across through Middle-earth. About Rivendell he had heard a great deal from Thranduil, and had met Elrond himself and his sons at the festival of the Winter Solstice. From what he still knew, they had been very different from the elves of Lasgalen and Bard was eager to meet the other inhabitants of Imladris.

"Well, Muin nín," Thranduil greeted him as Bard arrived at the palace of Lasgalen. "Are you ready for the journey?"

"Of course," Bard confirmed with a grin. "Ready and full of energy."

They rode in a group with ten other riders. Legolas respectfully greeted Bard, but left enough space for his father and his partner to speak freely, riding ahead with a member of the Royal Guard and exploring the grounds. Since Bard was heavily constrained in his capacity as mayor of Dale and Thranduil as a king was also not constantly available, the two men did not see each other as often as they would like to, so they tried to spent the time together as intensify as they could. The first part of the journey would take them through the western part of the Greenwood Forest before they had to cross the Misty Mountains. "How are the kids?" Thranduil asked, guiding his horse so close to Bard's that the riders' knees almost touched.

"Fine, even if none of them would like you to still call them kids," Bard replied with a smile. "Tilda will celebrate her fourteenth birthday in a few weeks."

"For real? Unbelievable how fast time passes ", Thranduil replied in surprise. "I remember how I brought her dolls and elvish sweets."

"And before we know it, she'll marry, just like Sigrid," Bard said pensively.

"That's the way things go, Meleth," Thranduil said, placing a hand on his lover's knee in a sympathetic gesture. Although Legolas was still unwilling to tie, the Elvenking could sense that it was not easy for Bard to watch his children leave the house one by one. For him, too, it was a strange feeling to see the children leave. He had taken part in their lives for the last five years whenever he was in Dale and tried to help them on their way to adulthood.

"I know and it's just fine," Bard agreed to the elf. "It was not always easy to raise them and I'm happy and proud that they've grown into good people."

"Indeed they are, just like their father," Thranduil replied with a sidelong glance at his lover. The compliment elicited a smile from Bard, revealing the many small wrinkles that surrounded his eyes. Even though they were signs of mortality on Bard's face, they only made him more beautiful in Thranduil's eyes, for they were testimony to the privation-rich life his lover had mastered.

XXXXXX

The beauty of Imladris immediately captured Bard when a guardian picked them up at the secret entrance and escorted them into the valley. In contrast to the forest of Lasgalen the landscape of Rivendell was dominated by the waters of the Bruinen River with its crystal clear waterfalls. Fertile gardens with exotic flowers framed the path, and flowering trees provided shadows as they rode toward a large white building. Lord Elrond and his family greeted his guests warmly as servants led the horses to the stables and received their luggage. „Mae tollen, Bard. Glass nín gen cened, Thranduil. Anann gen ú-gennin, Legolas.“ 

Bard gave a friendly nod as he brought his right hand to his heart. Although he knew a little Sindarin, he preferred to let Thranduil talk, though he knew that Elrond as a half-breed was in knowledge of the common tongue. "Glass nín gen achened, Elrond." The Elves exchanged a number of courtesies, but as the next guests arrived, Elrond apologized and sent the servants to show the group from Lasgalen the way to their rooms in his home.

XXXXXX

After the long ride, Bard was already looking forward to a bath and some idleness in their room before the festivities began. Thranduil, too, was glad to slip out of his boots and rider's trousers and stretch out on his bed only in his underwear. With a sigh, the Elvenking sank down onto the bed as Bard came out of the bathing chamber with a towel around his waist, still damp and steaming all over his body. Grinning, he leaned over the elf, dripping water from his hair onto Thranduil's body as Bard stole a kiss from his lips. Then he threw himself on the bed and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. For a while, the two men lay in silence, while Bard idly slipped one of Thranduil's pale blond strands through his fingers. "What really distinguishes the Spring Festival from the celebration of the Winter Solstice?"

"The ceremony is a different one," Thranduil explained as he turned sideways and began indexing his finger over Bard's chest to his navel. "The songs stimulate the plants to grow and thrive, but they also stimulate deeper, instinctual urges in most other lower creatures on Arda."

The elf's touch triggered goose bumps on Bard's skin and he had to swallow involuntarily. "That sounds very ... stimulating."

"You'll see," Thranduil replied cryptically. "It's like nothing you've ever experienced before."

XXXXXX

As evening fell, they were escorted by a servant to the garden of the house, where all the guests gradually gathered. Elvish-light lanterns lit the terrace and the sprawling green spaces where groups clustered and talked everywhere, while the servants set up a sumptuous buffet and walked among the guests with trays of wine. Thranduil had quickly found a conversation partner, and after the Elvenking had introduced his companion in the common tongue, he and the other Eldar fell into fast Sindarin, so that Bard could not follow the exchange. Sighning he fished a glass from the next tray and idle looked around. There might well have been around a hundred guests, and Bard seemed to be the only one of them who was not an Eldar, but ever since he'd been coming in and out of Lasgalen, he had become accustomed to being the only human among elves. The wine in his glass exuded an almost beguiling fragrance, so Bard gingerly tried a sip. Surprised, he realized that it had not by far a heavy bouquet as the grape juice from Dorwinion that Thranduil preferred. Instead, it tasted light and fruity, and before Bard knew it, he had emptied the first glass.

"Careful, Meleth," Thranduil whispered to him in a conversation break. "Remember the Winter Solstice." Instead of answering, Bard made only an incomprehensible grumble. It had only been a glass, it was hardly noticeable, besides, he was bored and he was thirsty, so he quickly took a second from the next tray. Hopefully the celebration started soon, because inconsequential banter was already repugnant in his job as mayor of Dale. So far, he had not found an elf he knew better, though a few faces seemed vaguely familiar to him, but as his eyes wandered on over the crowd, he recognized Legolas, engrossed in an animated conversation with Elladan and Elrohir. He seemed in such a relaxed mood like Bard had rarely experienced him. At least the young prince seemed to enjoy himself, and Bard begrudged it from his heart, because Legolas did not have too many opportunities to party in Lasgalen. Arwen, Lord Elrond's daughter, stood by her father's side on the edge of a stone pavilion and, like Bard, seemed to wait for the ceremony to begin. To celebrate the day, she had put on a particularly beautiful dress, which did honor her namesake, the evening star. Just as Bard quarreled with himself, whether he should go over to the young elves, a gong sounded and suddenly it was completely quiet in the garden.

Even though he did not understand the language, the deep solemn voice of Lord Elrond seemed to touch Bard down to the core as he began to sing an elvish chorale with his face and arms raised to the moon. From time to time Arwen, copying her father's movements, joined in the song, and then, one after another, the elves began to sing around him. The vibration of their voices seemed to reach into his heart, every fiber of his body seemed to ignite, the fine hairs on his arms rose, his pupils widened, and suddenly Bard felt strangely agitated. His heartbeat quickened, saliva pooled in his mouth and a heat that took its origin behind his navel wandered through his body until it gathered in his testicles. His pants suddenly became too tight and as Bard looked down, he realized with astonishment that his cock had become stiff.

"Lord in heaven," he mumbled, embarrassed. Although he had hardly drunk anything, Bard turned off the still-nearly-full glass of wine on a pillar while he looked around to see if the other guests were alike. Thranduil to his right looked in his direction with glassy eyes, but did not seem to really notice him before he turned his eyes back to the sky and participated in the song. Apparently, the ceremony was different to elves than to humans. Uneasily, Bard tried to find a position to hide his arousal, and was about to retreat to the washrooms when the elves around them grasp his hands and began to dance. The nice thing about elvish dances was that you did not really have to know how to dance because it was all juggling with a simple stride and before Bard knew he was in the middle of them. Drums, flutes and lutes joined the vocals and the rhythmic pounding of the feet drove the crowd forward.

The warmth in Bard's middle grew steadily from the contact with the bodies of the others and when he looked at the faces of the dancers, he noticed that even the pale cheeks of the elves were slightly red. Their eyes had a strange rapturous glow and their singing swelled in unison to a true crescendo. Bard moaned painfully as the sounds seemed to wander directly into his testicles and Bard thought he would have to burst if he did not immediately get relief, so he finally could not do otherwise and broke out of the circle of dancers, pulling Thranduil with him.

"Aphadeo nín!" He said to his lover, but the Elvenking seemed to be so caught up in the spell that he barely could hear him. More stumbling than walking Thranduil came after him, still singing softly. Determined, the two men moved away from the festival and the house, which was crowded with servants, seeking refuge in the back of the garden, where no lights had been set and the bushes stood so close they would protect them from prying eyes. The farther they went, the more Thranduil seemed to come to himself, until he asked Bard in a voice that seemed to come from very far away, "Mas ledhiam?"

"I need your help," Bard grumbled, urging his lover furiously backwards until Thranduil's back hit a tall apple tree. Roughly he pressed his lips to those of the elf, furious with desire. He needed sex and he needed it fast, so he was glad as his hands groped over Thranduil's front to find his prick already half-hard.

"Henion, Meleth," Thranduil managed to say as Bard drew back again. The Elvenking's eyes were now clear, so that he could see the arousal written all over Bard`s face. "Minno." Without hesitating, the Eldar opened the laces of his trousers, while Bard began fiddling with the buttons of his pants at the same time. White drops gathered at the top of his erect member when he finally released it and it pulsed painfully in his hand, so he could hardly wait to sink into Thranduil's tight body. Nevertheless, he took the time to quickly prepare the elf, who put a leg around Bard's waist as the human thrust his salivating fingers into his entrance.

"Maer, Muin nín," Thranduil said hoarsely, and Bard groaned with anticipation to finally get relief. His brain, fogged with pleasure, barely managed to keep control, so after a few seconds he already withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his shaft. With a moan he pushed through the tight muscle ring, which drew a fierce gasp out of Thranduil, but Bard still pressed forward without hesitation until he was completely buried inside the elf. He knew he wouldn' t last long, because he was already overstimulated, so he waited just a moment until Thanduil got used to the feeling of his member before he began to move. In the beginning, his thrusts were slow and cautious, but the heat of the elvish spell was still burning in him, so Bard quickly increased his pace until, as if in delusion, he repeatedly pushed into the elf. Eyes wide open, his gaze locked with Thranduil's pale blue irises. The plea for salvation was more than clearly written in the distorted face of the human, and the Eldar had no intention of denying it from him.

"Tolo, Melleth," Thranduil whispered to him, so that with a growl, Bard took the elf's shaft, which hung between their bodies and began to massage him as he pushed into him inexorably. Thranduil had his hands on Bards shoulders to keep his balance, and the human supported himself with his free hand on the tree while he pinned Thranduil against the trunk with the weight of his body. The heat in him seemed to be getting stronger by the minute, and Bard felt like he was about to burn up when it suddenly formed into a ball and his body erupted with a massive explosion.

"Thranduil!" With the name of his lover on his lips, Bard came buried deep inside the elf. His heart seemed to jump out of his chest and his mouth gasped as his whole body trembled in the intoxication of the orgasm. Stars appeared in front of his eyes and his ears were throbbing, the blood pulsing so violently through his head. Bard had to lean heavily on Thranduil to keep his balance. Even in the fog, he realized that the Eldar came with a strangled sound in his hand as Bard rode slowly past his climax. Now that his desire had been satisfied, his thoughts finally ceased to focus solely on the act of love and as his gaze became clearer again, he caught Thranduil's flushed face and his tangled hair, which was so untypical for the elf that a smile touched the corners of his mouth. When he was sure he could keep his balance, Bard took his hand from the tree and gently stroked Thranduil's cheek. "You're glowing," he stated.

"The work of your heated passion," Thranduil replied and smiled at those words as well. A groan escaped his lips as Bard slipped out of him and the Eldar finally released his leg from the waist of the human. His face showed the discomfort as he cleaned himself and stiff-legged arranged his clothes.

Immediately, Bard felt guilty. Although Thranduil was tough, he was clearly in pain, which was probably because he had not been gentle in their lovemaking. "Did I hurt you?"

"Do not worry, Muin nín, maybe I'm a bit sore. Nothing a hot bath could not relieve. Besides, it would be fine if I could not sit for the rest of the trip. Because I have to confess, I had a vague idea that the spell would not pass you by without a trace. "

"The instinctual urges of the lower living beings?" Bard asked, his grin getting a bit stressed with these words. "It would not have been wrong to warn me about it."

"Your passion is nothing to be ashamed of," Thranduil replied, gently stroking the man's chin. "Without it, you would not be the man I love. By the way, wine brings the juices even more into motion, so I tried to warn you about it. But because I did not want to travel to the festival without you, I did not tell you anything. "

Surprised by the confession, Bard's eyebrows went up. "Why, did you think I would refuse to come?"

"After the aftermath of the Winter Solstice, I was not so sure that you would really be with me if you had known that the spell might redraw you out of control," the Elvenking explained his reasons.

For a long moment Bard looked thoughtfully over to the house, which was brightly lit, then shook his head. "You worry unnecessarily, I would have come anyway, if only because I do not want to be separated from you for so long."

This statement reassured Thranduil, but he wanted to be completely clear with Bard, which was why he asked. "Are you cross with me now?"

"No," Bard replied, taking Thranduil's hand in his. "Unless my senses play tricks on me again and it's already been a week since we entered the garden."

Gently, the Elvenking squeezed his lover's fingers. "Do not worry, Muin nín, it's still the same night." Dull, the droning of the drums could be heard in the distance and while Bard listened to it, a bad suspicion crept up on him. "If we go back as long as the music is playing, will the magic recapture me?"

"That could happen, my heart," Thranduil replied with a tortured smile.

Bard nodded as if he had expected that answer before sighing resignedly and lowering himself cross-legged down into the damp grass. "Then I'd better stay here until the ceremony is over."

The floor in the unlit part of the garden was so dark that the human almost fused with it, but he was still clearly visible to the Eldar's keen eyes as Thranduil unhesitatingly did like his lover and sat down on the lawn, too. "Good, then we both stay."

"Really?" Bard asked, who had difficulty recognizing Thranduil's face in the shade of the trees. "You aren' t disappointed if you miss the ceremony because of me?"

With a subtle smile, Thranduil moved closer to his lover as he said, "I've had countless Spring Festivals, Melleth, but this one should be yours." With that, he leaned over to Bard and captured the human's mouth with his own. It was a different kiss than the previous one, driven by the heart and not the instinct. Possessively, Bard buried his hand in the elf's hair as he intensified the kiss. He asked without a word to let him in and Thranduil surrendered with skin and hair.

For a long time the drums roared through the garden of Elrond's house in Rivendell, but Thranduil and Bard did not let them entice themselves any more, instead they lay shoulder to shoulder in the grass, kissing and looking up at the stars, which gradually grew paler until the sun on the horizon welcomed the new day.

 

The End

Translation of the Elvish sentences according to: tara.istad.org

 

Aphadeo nín - Follow me

Mas ledhiam - Where are we going?

Henion - I understand

Minno - Come in

Maer - Yes

Muin nin - My lover

Tolo - Come on


End file.
